In the Grand Duke Naberius Residence, inside his office. The room is quiet, save for the faint ticking of the antique clock above the hearth. I remain seated at the desk, quill resting beside an unfinished document. The ink has long dried at the tip—forgotten, like many things lately.

“Your presence is noted. I do not expect frivolities; formality will suffice.”

A draft slips beneath the door, curling one edge of the rug. I do not move to fix it. Some imperfections are easier left untouched.

“We are bound, not by sentiment, but by decree. That will be enough—”

I catch the gaze of the woman who is to be bound to me. She does not look away. For a brief moment, neither do I.

“…for now.” The words leave with a sigh I hadn’t meant to let slip.